The Borgias in High School
by Queen of War
Summary: An alternate universe fic with a high school setting. Cesare is the Vice Principal of Rome High School, dealing with the ambitions of Principal Della Rovere who wants the title of Superintendent... warning for slash and BDSM.
1. Chapter 1

Warnings: BDSM, slash, teenage drama, abuse, unrequited love and some questionable characterization. Consider yourselves warned.

They were out of coffee. Cesare tore apart the small kitchen, the fridge, the pantry, underneath the sink, looking for the desired beans, to no avail. It was fifteen minutes after six in the morning and they had no coffee.

"Dammit. Micheletto!" he yelled. "Are you up?"

"I'm right here." It never failed to freak Cesare out how his boyfriend could appear out of nowhere.

"Where'd you put the coffee?"

"I didn't buy any."

"What?" Cesare's snapped up. "Dammit, you were supposed to buy more coffee yesterday when you went out to get your prescriptions…" he stopped and sighed, rubbing his temples. "You didn't get your prescriptions filled, did you." It was more a statement of fact than a question.

"I didn't."

"When we get off from work, we're driving to Walmart to get them filled. When we get home I'm going to flay you alive."

Micheletto nodded and checked the kitchen clock. "If we get dressed we'll have time to stop at Starbucks."

There was a line of SUVs outside the Starbucks pick up window. They sat for a while, staring out the window, before Cesare decided to take advantage of the extra time and return to the subject of prescriptions. "Why didn't you get the prescriptions filled?"

"It's expensive."

"You get them filled at Walmart for ten dollars."

"I hate medicine."

"Why?"

"Pain is weakness leaving the body. Why deny myself the chance to get rid of weakness by hiding the pain with medication?"

Cesare let his head fall forward and hit the steering wheel. "Medicine is supposed to help you manage pain. Besides, what if you snapped and hurt one of your students?"

"They deserve it. Half are functioning illiterates and the other half spend class time writing gay male porn fan fiction. They're all hoodlums."

"Writing what?"

"They pass notes about their favorite pairings in class. I've got a few at home."

Cesare sat back. "Wow. Just, wow."

"You look good in red."

"Thanks. Dad gave me the shirt last Christmas."

"It looks good."

"Than…you are not changing the subject."

"We'll pick up the medication after work, like you said."

"Right."

"In the meantime this line isn't moving."

Cesare raised an eyebrow. "So what are you suggesting?"

"Sex in the backseat."

A pause. "Ok."

The good thing about being the Vice Principal of the school (and the son of the Superintendent) was that you never had to worry about being late.

Author's notes- guess which half of the class I was part of during high school? You get three guesses and the first two don't count.

My mother was a teacher and she often referred to her charges as hoodlums.

Things to look forward too- Ursula as a school counselor, easily the most useless job in education. Giovanni Sforza, the geology teacher. Lucrezia dealing with algebra and the question of whether Paulo likes her, or like likes her. And Cardinal Della Rovere as the Principal, trying to run a school and take over as Superintendent.


	2. Chapter 2

"Get to class, people," Cesare yelled to the students. It was a minute and a half before the final warning bell rang and the hallways were crowded with teenagers. His eyes met Paulo's and he glowered at the boy. He didn't that kid; he spent too much time around Lucrezia.

"Mr. Borgia." Cesare turned when he heard his name and inwardly grimaced. The too-pointy face of Principal Della Rovere stared back at him. "You are late and your shirt is on backwards."

"My alarm clock didn't go off."

"Really? Did the dog eat your homework as well?"

The bell sang out and Cesare waited for it to stop before answering. "I'm sorry, Mr. Della Rovere. It won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." They parted ways and Cesare made his way towards the office, seething and imagining pushing the Principal down a flight of stairs.

The morning announcements were always inane. After the Pledge of Allegiance and the moment of silence, Mrs. Bonadeo got on the loudspeaker and, in as chipper a voice as she could manage, told the student body that tickets to the formal dance were on sale, tickets to the drama club's production of 'West Side Story' were on sale, and tickets to the football game this Friday were also on sale. She ended the announcements by reminding them all to have a great day.

No sooner had the click of the loudspeaker signaling the end of the announcements sounded, then Giovanni Sforza produced a stack of papers and handed them out. "Quiz."

The class groaned. "Mr. Sforza, you didn't tell us there was a quiz today," Lucrezia said.

"Your powers of observation astound me. It's a pop quiz."

"But…"

"Give me any more back talk and I'll give you detention."

Lucrezia hated geology. The subject itself wasn't so bad, but Mr. Sforza's teaching style was crap. She puzzled over the three page quiz for twenty minutes before finally guessing most of the answers and turning it in.

Sforza took one look at it and lifted his red pen. "You forgot your name. Minus ten points."

"What? You know it's my paper!"

"You know it's my paper," he repeated back to her in a sing-song voice. "And you know you're supposed to put your name on your work. Sit down and read chapter five. And don't open your mouth again."

She sat down and opened her textbook, but didn't read. Instead she watched the other students. Her best friend Francesca was bent over the paper and tearing her hair out. Not that that meant anything; Francesca worried far too much about her grades as far as Lucrezia is concerned. The girl devoted no time to dating.

Paulo was also bent over the paper and he looked close to tears. That was a little more troubling; Lucrezia was one of the few students who knew about his dyslexia. Most of the teachers were understanding and followed state-mandated guidelines for dealing with students with disabilities, but not Mr. Sforza. If anything he seemed intent on making Paulo as frustrated as possible.

After a few minutes Paulo scribbled his name across the top of the papers and handed it in. From her seat, Lucrezia could see that at least the first page was blank. She sighed and made a mental note to talk to Cesare as soon as possible.

Outside the sun shone brightly on the school walls, warming the brick and creating a very pleasant atmosphere. Juan leaned against the wall and inhaled.

"This is awesome. Djem, you have awesome ideas."

"It's not much of an idea. Skip class, smoke cigarette, enjoy the sun. But thanks anyways."

"It's an awesome idea. Alfonso, tell him to stop being modest."

The third member of the unholy triad lifted his head. He was lying on the ground, with his hands supporting his neck. "Djem, you need to let people know how awesome you are. Otherwise they'll walk all over you."

"What if I want them to walk all over me? What if I want them to beat me up?"

"Who the hell do you want to beat you up?" Juan asked.

"Your sister."

"No. Hell no," Juan shouted over Alfonso's insane laughter. "You keep the hell away from my little sister. If you need sex, talk to Sancia."

"It'll cost you twenty bucks," Alfonso said, and giggled again.

"Ahem." All three turned to see the scowling Vice Principal Borgia. Somehow, he had managed to sneak up on them.

"Oh. Shit," Juan mumbled.

"My thoughts exactly. Up, all three of you. My office. Move!"

The phone calls home went about as poorly as they could have. Alfonso's father was senile and didn't remember he had a son. Djem's older brother yelled that if the school wanted to keep the 'little bastard', they could have him. Rodrigo and Vanozza Borgia were too busy working to answer either of their cell phones. Cesare sighed and looked at the three deviants.

"It would be much easier for everyone if you forgot you ever saw us," Alfonso pointed out. "Just take the path of least resistance and let us go with a stern talking too and a promise of misery if we ever play hooky again."

"As tempting as that is, no. You're here to get an education, not goof off between track meets."

"You're the scholar in the family," Juan said. "I'm the athlete. Live with it, Cesare."

Alfonso poked Djem. "Why does he always bring up their relationship?"

"I don't know, but I'm kissing my Saturdays goodbye."

"That's Mr. Borgia to you. And just because you're an athlete doesn't mean you get to ignore classes and run around like a headless chicken. What class are you missing now?"

"French."

"Aren't you failing that?"

"It's French! Who cares?"

"You'll care, because you're all going to spend every Saturday for a month in detention."

"We have track meets on Saturday!"

"Too bad."

"I'll tell Dad."

"Don't bother, I left him a message on his voicemail. I expect he'll want to talk to you when he get hears it."

"That's not fair!"

"It's very fair. Now all of you, out of my office."

Djem blew kisses in the air as they left. "Good bye, Saturdays! Goodbye, goodbye!"

The door closed just as the bell rang.

Author's notes- Sforza teaches Geology because I hate the character and I hate the subject.

Poor, poor Paulo. That character gets put through the torture rack. But you know what they say, beware the nice ones. Sforza better watch his back…


	3. Chapter 3

Giulia Farnese checked the clock. It was ten minutes past the hour of second period. She had six classes, plus lunch/homeroom in between, before school ended and she could see him. Six periods. Lunch and homeroom. She could do it.

"Does anyone have any questions about this formula? Yes, Robert?"

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

Such was the life of a high school algebra teacher. Giulia counted to ten, and smiled sweetly. "Yes. Anybody have any questions related to the formula? No? Okay then. Take out your text books and turn to page 1492. This side of the class do the even numbered problems, this side do the odd. Independent work."

She glanced at the clock. It was eleven minutes past the hour of second period.

God dammit.

She walked around the classroom, peering over shoulders to gauge student's work. When she came to Paulo she frowned at tapped him on the head. He blushed when he realized he'd been caught.

"Sorry."

She took the piece of paper from him and inspected it. It was a picture of a girl with long curly hair riding a horse through the countryside. She was wearing a dress. Giulia didn't know enough about historical clothing to match it with the era, but she guessed late Middle Ages, possibly early Renaissance. But she did recognize the girl in the picture.

"It's a nice picture. Lovely, in fact. But it's not algebra."

"Sorry," he said again.

She lightly tapped his head with her mechanical pencil. "Get to work and see me after class."

When the bell finally, finally rang, he approached her desk and handed her his paper with the problems on it. She graded it while lecturing him.

"What did I tell you to do if you were having trouble?"

"To ask you for help."

"And what did I say would happen if I caught you drawing again?"

"You'd give me detention."

He looked so contrite she was tempted to let him off with a warning. But the truth was, detention would give him extra study time. She handed him a slip of paper with her signature on it. "Tomorrow after school. And Paulo?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

Giulia smiled and handed him back the math paper with a big red 80% B- on top. "Good job. And you really should show her the picture. It's lovely."

He blushed and mumbled something before running out of the room.

Giulia shook her head. Kids today. When she was his age, she was asking out every boy in the hallway. Since this was her free period, she selected the first of a stack of worksheets and started grading, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door. When she looked up her smile turned into a grin and her eyes lit up.

"Rodrigo!"

"Giulia, my dear." They embraced and she angled her face for a kiss. He took the hint and they stood at the doorway, too wrapped up in each other to care if anyone saw them. Then common sense took over and they shut the classroom door.

"What are you doing here?"

"One of my offspring required my attention. I came to deliver and thought I would stop by to see you."

"Let me guess, Juan?"

"Got it on the first try."

"He's got a reputation in the teacher's lounge. Aside from attention, I think he needs a few other things."

"The shoemaker's children go barefoot. Tell me, are you doing anything important right now?"

"Kissing you."

"A very important task. But," his hands ran along her spine, "I think we can do better."

"I think we can too," she purred.

In a classroom down the hall, Maria noticed her purse was missing and cursed. "Mr. Corella?" She waved her hand around. "Mr. Corella!"

The lecture about the history of foot whipping paused. If the history teacher felt any annoyance at all about being interrupted it didn't show. He just looked at her.

"I left my purse in my last class. Can I go get it?" She hated to miss the lecture; Mr. Corella's lectures were always stimulating in more ways than one. He nodded and she ran out of the room.

She was so intent to get her purse and get back to class that she didn't bother to knock. She just opened the door and walked in.

What she saw made her eyes bug out. "Mrs. Farnese?"

"Maria!" The algebra teacher grabbed her skirt to cover herself as best she could. The man beside her did the same thing with his shirt. For a few seconds the three of them stared at each other in horror.

"Um, I just came for my purse," Maria said after a moment. "It's over there."

The man, who she almost recognized, picked up her leather and chain purse. "This it?"

"Yes, Sir." Usually, she was okay with calling a naked man 'Sir', but when he was sexing up her algebra teacher it went from hot to just weird.

He threw her the purse and she caught it. "Thank you. Um, I'll just leave now. I didn't see anything." She hurried out of the room. Once the door clicked shut behind her, she belatedly remembered who the man was; she had seen him at the last school dance.

She didn't go back to class. Instead, she ducked into a bathroom and took out her phone. The text message went out to all her friends.

Within an hour the whole school knew that Mrs. Farnese was sleeping with the School District Superintendent.

Author's notes- maybe it was the way she knew what would shock courtesans. Maybe it was the way she ate that peach. Maybe it was the different positions she was willing to try with Micheletto. I dunno, but Maria gave off a rather kinky vibe to me.

I'm having so much fun with this prompt. And yeah, I know that so far I've got like, two heterosexual couples set up but have no fear. The slash will return and it will return with gusto and kink.


	4. Chapter 4

"Vice Principal Borgia," Rodrigo said, in that happy voice parents use when referencing their children's jobs. He stepped inside the office with a big smile on his face.

"Dad," Cesare said, in that voice adult children use whenever they're miffed at their parents. He shut the door. "What the hell?"

"Excuse me?"

Cesare held up a cell phone he had confiscated from a student and showed Rodrigo the incriminating text message. "I didn't even know you were here and you're banging the algebra teacher."

"Oh dear."

"Mom is going to kill you."

"About that…" Rodrigo drummed his fingers on the desk. "Your mother and I…"

"No. No, no, no. You are not getting a divorce. Not after all the trouble I went to convincing her to take you back after last time. Dammit!"

"We're not divorcing, just taking a break. I am sorry. And I'm sorry this," he waved a hand at the cell phone, "landed on your desk. But, I do count on you to keep this quiet."

"Quiet? Dad, it's already around the school. It's only a matter of time before the school board hears about it."

"You have resources. I trust you to use them wisely." Rodrigo patted Cesare's hand. "Now, I believe you had a problem with Juan?"

Cesare told him what had transpired. The voicemail had been pretty thorough but if the Superintendent needed an excuse to see his mistress, the Vice Principal didn't have much choice but to provide him with one. "I already gave him a month of Saturday detention."

"A bit harsh, don't you think? He has track meets on Saturday."

"What would you have done if I had skipped French class?"

"That's different. You never got in trouble."

Cesare sighed. "The punishment stands. I can't let kids, even my little brother, get away with skipping class and smoking on school grounds."

Rodrigo must have sensed he wasn't going to win that particular battle because he didn't press the issue further. He left and the bell rang, signifying the end of third period.

Half the students went to homeroom during fourth period, half went to lunch. As Vice Principal, Cesare was expected to patrol the cafeteria to remind the students he existed. Today though, his heart wasn't in it.

Micheletto saved him from a lonely lunchtime. "Chinese?"

"When did you have time to get Chinese food?"

"I told one of my students he could skip if he didn't get caught and if he brought me back Chinese food."

"You're supposed to be setting an example about the joys of learning."

"In Ancient Sparta, boys were encouraged to steal food and were only punished if they got caught. I encourage my students to steal free time and only punish them if they get caught. They learn stealth this way."

"What bothers me most about that explanation is that you are completely serious." Cesare helped himself to an eggroll. "Tell me, does the whole school know about my father and Mrs. Farnese?"

"I've got a confiscated cell phone that reads 'OMG! Mrs Pharnsaysee is sex0rs w/ the super attendant!' I've seen military codes easier to decipher than these text messages. It's like they learned to write from the icanhascheeseburger website."

Cesare smirked through a mouthful of fried rice. "Right. Do you know who started this rumor?"

"This particular text came from Maria. She's in my third period class."

"What about this one?" Cesare slid the phone he had confiscated across the desk. Micheletto picked it up and tapped a few buttons.

"Also Maria."

"What do you know about her?"

"Pays attention in class, takes notes. Uses body spray that she claims smells like peaches."

Cesare lowered his voice. "Any way you can shut her up?"

"What did you have in mind?"

"Nothing that will hurt her, just something that will keep the school board from paying attention to her lies."

"Are they lies?"

"Of course."

"I've got an idea."

The bell rang, signaling the students in homeroom to go to lunch and the students in lunch to go to homeroom. The hallways were jammed and it was only luck that Paulo managed to catch up with Lucrezia and Francesca. They exchanged greetings and while the girls chattered, he fell into an awkward silence.

He had spent all of homeroom thinking about what Mrs. Farnese said and came to the conclusion that she was right. He should confess to Lucrezia! He would confess to Lucrezia! And she would accept his love and devotion and they would go out together. Where they would 'go out' to he didn't know, as he didn't have a driver's license and neither did she, but they would go out! And it would be the most amazing experience ever.

"Lucrezia, I…"

"Lucrezia!" Djem sauntered to the trio and smiled, showing off pearly white teeth. "Lucrezia, my charming lady, I have a question."

She giggled. "Yes?"

"Go to the game with me this Friday? I would invite you for a movie this Saturday but alas, your brother is strict."

Blushing, she agreed to go out with him, he said he'd pick her up in his car around seven, and they parted ways. When he was gone, she turned to her friends and squealed. "Oh my Gawd!"

"I know, right?" Francesca said and they gushed about how this was the most amazing moment in time ever.

Paulo sighed and sadly made his way to the cafeteria.

Author's notes- A lot of this is based on my own high school experience. Micheletto's reaction to the text message is based on my mother's reaction to tutoring.

Paulo's life continues to suck.


	5. Chapter 5

It was fifth period, ten minutes after the hour, and Niccolo Machiavelli was already counting the minutes to the end. It was his least favorite class. They were, to quote Corella in the History department, a bunch of illiterate inbreeds.

"Now that you've all read 'Romeo and Juliet', do you have any questions? Yes, Robert?"

"Can I go to the bathroom?"

Machiavelli rubbed his temples and silently cursed his chosen career as a high school English teacher. "Yes. Anybody have anything related to the material? No? Okay, how about an opinion on the work? Anybody? Lucrezia?"

"It's a tragic romance reminiscent of Jack and Rose?"

Machiavelli died a little on the inside. "Good enough. You read it, or at least watched a film version. I'm at the point in my career where that's all it takes to impress me. Anybody else? Sancia, feel like passing this year?"

"Um," Sancia looked up from her make-up compact. "It's a tragic romance reminiscent of Jack and Rose?"

A knock on the classroom door was all that stopped him from letting out a string of vulgarities. "And here to save my sanity is Principal Della Rovere. I'll be right outside the door. Use the next few minutes to look over the passages and think up a half-baked opinion. Don't kill each other." He stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind him.

"Principal Della Rovere, to what do I owe the honor?"

Della Rovere didn't waste time with formalities. "I trust you heard about Superintendent Borgia's indiscretions?"

"I confiscated a cell phone just last period."

"The school board frowns on such impropriety. It's not politically correct to have relationships with subordinates. When coupled with his elevation of his son to the position Vice Principal," Della Rovere shuddered, as if too disgusted to finish the thought.

"A terrible lack of judgment on his part," Machiavelli deadpanned. "What do you want me to do about it?"

"You have seniority among the faculty. You are listened too, your council is sought. In short, you have influence."

"And what would you have me do with this influence?"

"Nothing."

The hallway was quiet for a moment. "Nothing is easy enough."

"Let me elaborate, Superintendent Borgia will face justice for his actions. He will try to rally support, from his son, from the teachers in the schools."

Machiavelli caught on. "And you wish me to withhold my support."

"Let your silence speak volumes."

There was a thump on the door from inside the class, followed by someone yelling, "That doesn't bend like that!" and a crash.

"The natives are restless," Della Rovere said. "We can continue this later."

"Indeed."

When Della Rovere returned to his office the first thing he did was make a few phone calls. News traveled fast and most of the members of the school board already knew the scandal. After a brief conference call he determined that the only reason the local media hadn't been summoned was because of a lack of formal evidence. Apparently, misspelled texts did not count as evidence.

Not to be deterred, Della Rovere sent a few e-mails asking if anyone knew where the incriminating text had originated. A name appeared and Maria was pulled from class and summoned to the Principal's office.

He greeted her with a warm smile and a choice. "Apple or peach?" he had a bowl of fruit on his desk and he held it out to her.

"I like peach." As she munched on the fruit, he gave her a rundown of the situation. She had done nothing wrong, nobody blamed her for the terrible act she had witnessed, she was a victim in all this, and he just wanted to get the facts straight.

"It's awkward to talk about," she said.

"I understand, my dear. Perhaps," he slid a piece of paper and a pen across his desk, "you would feel more at ease writing it down?"

Sixth period came and went without anything interesting happening. Seventh period followed sixth's lead and when the final bell rang everyone was relieved.

Micheletto knocked on the door frame of Cesare's office. "Home?"

"No. Prescriptions, then home."

So the flaying alive thing was still on. That was good, even if the prescriptions were not. Still, if Cesare was willing to order him to take the pills, he would take the pills. It wasn't like he had much choice; it was submit or be master-less. And if Micheletto were honest with himself he would have to admit he was tired of being alone.

"Prescriptions then home it is."

Author's notes- Machiavelli and Micheletto should meet on the show. Their combined ruthlessness would create some epic drama.


	6. Chapter 6

When she got home Lucrezia wasted no time in finding her father. She burst into his study and almost fell into his arms. "It's not true is it? Tell me it's not true!"

"Oh dear." He petted her hair and swallowed. "Lucrezia, Darling…"

"You only call me 'Darling' when the news is bad. I already know the news is bad, I heard it during sixth period. I just want you to tell me it's not worse."

Behind them, Juan appeared at the door, looking miserable. He said nothing but listened.

"Lucrezia, your mother and I…" Rodrigo awkwardly patted her hand, "we're taking a break."

"It's not fair. Not after last time." His heart broke when the tears spilled and flowed down her cheeks. "I know there are things I don't understand but it's not fair."

No matter how hard he tried he couldn't calm her down. Vanozza came to his rescue and led the sobbing Lucrezia away, whispering soothing words into their daughter's ears.

That left him to deal with Juan. He scowled at the teenager and received a scowl in return.

"You're behavior is disgraceful," the elder Borgia said.

"My behavior?" Juan pointed to himself. "My behavior? You come to the school, pretending to care about what I'm doing and you end up screwing the algebra teacher. What the hell…" He was cut off by a slap across the face.

"Do not challenge me," Rodrigo said and his voice was dangerously low. "Do you have idea how you embarrassed your brother and myself?"

"You're worried about Cesare? He's out of the house; he doesn't have to live with you and Mom while you 'take a break'."

"We are not talking about your mother and me right now."

"No, we're talking about you and your favorite son."

Rodrigo felt his own heart shatter. "I have four children," he said gently. "I love them all as equally as possible."

"You promise?" It sounded so pitiful.

"I love you as much as I love your brother." He embraced his second child then held him at arm's length. "But do not think that love clouds my judgment. You're grounded for a month."

* * *

><p>In another neighborhood, Beyazid punched his younger brother Djem in the face, sending the teenager to the hardwood floor of their kitchen.<p>

* * *

><p>Across town, Micheletto handed the whip to Cesare. "I cannot convincingly whip myself." He turned around and, using the foot of their bed as a hand hold, offered his bare back to Cesare.<p>

The leather struck and he winced.

"You can't convincingly whip yourself and you can't convincingly skip doses. If you ever," another strike, "forgo your medications again," the whip came down harder this time, "God help you."

"Then it is not," he was interrupted by three brutal slashes and had to start again. "It is not in my best interests to skip doses, is it?"

"When have you ever acted in your own best interests?" Cesare evidently decided he was done talking because the lashes suddenly became harder and more intense. There was no pleasure in the bite of leather, just pain, just 'don't you fucking ever skip meds again because I will hurt you worse than this if you do'.

Micheletto spied the damnable little bottle of Buproprion. He focused every ounce of energy he had on hating that bottle, using that hate to drown out the pain spreading through every muscle. It worked for a few moments, until Cesare struck one particularly harsh blow.

He didn't cry out. Micheletto didn't do screaming, or crying, or any other blatant show of emotion. He just dropped his head and started shaking. It was more his body's breaking point than his own.

Cesare let the whip fall to the floor and pushed Micheletto on their bed. "I need you. I need you functional. If you weren't around, my life would be even more hellish than it already is. I need you, understand?"

Micheletto nodded.

"Say it."

He had to take a few breaths before obeying. "I understand. I need you too."

It was the closest they had ever gotten to admitting their feelings for one another.

Author's notes- I thought about writing more for the Djem scene but then I figured that one sentence got the point across. I think paying for your little brother's murder qualifies someone as an abusive bastard.

The Rodrigo/Juan scene was hard to write. It has usually been absurdly easy to transfer what happened in the show over to this fic, but this proved a challenge. I just hope the fact that Juan is a very insecure teenager came through.

Buproprion is a generic form of Welbutrin, which treats depression. Micheletto is an emotionally stunted, depraved individual. Cesare is smart enough to recognize this and keeps his dog on a leash.


	7. Chapter 7

Cesare never came to work expecting to a have a good day; he was too savvy for that. But sometimes, some days, he dared to hope for a decent day. A day with minimal drama. A day when nobody hit on his little sister. A day when the inmates went to their designated holding pens and he didn't have to waste too much time worrying about them. Today, Friday, he hoped would be like that.

His hopes were dashed within the first half hour. He saw Lucrezia and she told him about her date with Djem that evening. There had been a call from a mother complaining about her child's History notes; apparently Micheletto's focus was largely on torture, assassination and poisoning. Cesare had been out of the office at the time and the call had gone through to Principal Della Rovere.

Last and worst of all, Dr. Johannes Burchard's glasses were missing. The school administrator was in a state of panic, fussing through his collection of education books and the paperwork that came with running a school. "I'm telling you, someone stole them," he yelled at Cesare.

"Uh-huh." Cesare didn't take his eyes off Della Rovere's closed door.

"I need you to find the miscreant and throw him out!"

"Uh-huh," Cesare said again. "Doctor, I have a question. Have you heard the coarse rumors concerning the Superintendent and Mrs. Farnese?"

That stopped the little doctor in his tracks. "I-I have heard the rumors."

"Uh-huh. You're the district's foremost authority on education so tell me, what actions will the School Board take now?"

Dr. Burchard blinked owlishly. "When called on I give opinions. Not prophecies."

"But if you had to guess….?"

"I would be able to guess more accurately if I could look for precedent!" The little doctor turned away to search through drawers, grumbling to himself the whole time.

Cesare turned back to the door. He didn't have to wait long, it opened a few seconds later and Micheletto exited. Their eyes met and they met in Cesare's office.

Within seconds they were up against the wall and Cesare's hand was on the back of Micheletto's neck. "How'd the trip to the Principal's office go?"

"The worst kind of job security is working in a place nobody else wants to work at."

"So you're not fired?"

"Unfortunately, no."

Cesare smirked and leaned in for a bite when the smell hit him. "Why do you smell like lemon?"

"Principal Della Rovere has an interest in the male torso."

"…What?"

Micheletto broke away from him and turned around. His shirt went up over his shoulders and Cesare saw the scars from last night glisten with lemon juice.

"Sonuvabitch."

"Him or me?"

"Both of you." He pushed Micheletto against the wall. "For an experienced Subordinate, you don't seem to do anything right. I should gouge your eyes out for letting someone else hurt you. Only I'm allowed to do that."

"I'd still follow you with one eye or without two."

Cesare kissed him. "You're funny. I should make you wear a clown hat." He let go and Micheletto slumped to the floor. "Wash the lemon juice off and get to class. First period started five minutes ago."

Five minutes ago, Mr. Savonarola started ranting. "You will pay for your sins, your greed and laziness," he yelled, filling the drama room with perfectly enunciated rage.

A few months ago such an act warranted a hushed room and eyes wide with fear at the angry thespian. Now the class largely ignored him in favor of exchanging the latest gossip.

"Why are we even in this class?" Djem asked.

"Because you wanted an easy A, Alfonso wanted a class full of boys to make out with, and I wanted to show the masses how good my highlights look on stage," Juan said.

Ah, now I remember. Your highlights are very pretty."

"Thanks."

"You're welcome. By the way, I'm taking your sister to the game tonight."

Djem had to admit; Juan's ranting far outclassed Mr. Savonarola's.

A few minutes later they were sitting in Cesare's office and he wished Juan's ranting hadn't been so impressive. "This is a simple misunderstanding," he said soothingly to the Vice Principal, who did not look reassured.

"Misunderstanding, my ass!" Juan yelled. "Cesare, he's dating our sister!"

"It's 'Mr. Borgia' and don't curse in school. If he wants to date Lucrezia," Cesare could feel his teeth grinding, "there are better ways to suggest he change his mind."

"He's got like four girlfriends and a host of side dishes!"

"I like to refer to them as concubines," Djem said, and then realized that was the wrong thing to say.

"Like I said, if he's seeing Lucrezia that's between him, Mom, and Dad," Cesare said. "Lucrezia too, I guess," he added as an afterthought.

"But that's…"

"That's the final word. Out." Cesare pointed to the door. "It's time for second period. Don't skip."

"But…"

"Out." Cesare pushed Djem back into the seat when he rose. "You stay."

Djem waited until the door clicked shut before he started talking again. "Mr. Borgia, I have nothing but honorable intentions to your sister."

"I very much doubt that. But I don't want to talk about her anymore."

"Oh? Then why keep me?"

"I want to ask you about that black eye."

The smile faded from Djem's face as he remembered the night before. "I ran into a door."

"A door," Cesare repeated flatly. "You know, before they let me become a Vice Principal they made sure I recognized the signs of abuse."

"I'm sure they did. If you will excuse me, Mr. Borgia, I must get to class." Djem smiled and left before Cesare could say anything.


	8. Chapter 8

The bell rang signifying the end of first period signified the start of drama.

"Are you Maria?"

She looked up from her locker. "Who wants to know?"

"I heard you're good for a fun night." He wore a hoodie and all she could see were his glasses.

"I know how to do things that would shock a courtesan," she said, just to shock him. It was rather flattering to have a random boy stop by her locker and ask her out. It didn't happen every day.

"Don't have to shock a courtesan, just make me happy. You free tonight?"

"I can be."

"Meet me here before the game."

"Gonna tell me your name?"

"Jack."

"Jack," she repeated. "Okay, Jack. I'll meet you at my locker at five."

"We'll have a good time tonight," he promised before leaving her.

Down the hall, Lucrezia let out a doleful sigh. "This isn't fair," she moaned, her hand clutching the quiz, a giant D on the top. "First my parents break up, now this. My life is terrible."

"That class is terrible," Francesca said.

"What do you know of geology?"

"I know it should not be like this," Francesca held up her own quiz with an equally large D on the top. "Did anyone pass?"

"Nobody."

"Well, at least you have tonight to look forward to. It's important to look ahead, if only for the sake of one's endurance throughout the day."

"Yeah. Too bad we can't do anything about Mr. Sforza."

Paulo, who had been silent during the conversation because he musing on his own miserable grade, got an idea. "What if someone were to tame Mr. Sforza?"

The girls looked at him. "What do you mean?" Francesca asked.

"I've got a screwdriver in my locker. His chair…" He trailed off.

Francesca sucked in her breath. "You could kill him."

"He wouldn't die from a fall," Lucrezia scoffed. She looked at Paulo and her eyes held some admiration. "I could have you expelled for even thinking of such a thing."

"You won't."

"You're right, I won't. But while you're doing this, you should have a lookout."

"He should have two," Francesca said.

One of Lucrezia's hands took Francesca's, the other, Paulo's. "Guys, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful scheme."

The bell rang.

Fifteen minutes after the ringing stopped, Juan stood up. "He's got four main courses and a host of side dishes! Would you see our little sister become desert?" He turned to Alfonso. "That's what I should have said!"

"Um, yeah. Juan? You're taking the whole 'nobody dates my little sister' routine a smidge too seriously. Also, we're in the middle of French class." Alfronso pointed to their teacher, Mr. Charles.

The rotund man, who looked more like Droopy the cartoon dog than a fluent speaker of a romance language, nodded. "Yes," he said in a thick accent. "You are in class. However, your outburst has provided an opportunity. No, no, no. Remain standing. Tell me, how do you say 'Mr. Charles, I am sorry for rudely interrupting your lesson' in French?"

"Um," Juan licked his lips. "Parlez vous…um."

"Please do not look at Alfonso. His grades are no better than yours and he will not be able to help you."

"I don't know how to say it," Juan admitted.

"Then how do you say, 'Mr. Charles, I am sorry for wasting your valuable time. I should have studied harder and paid attention in class' in French?"

After a few seconds Juan shook his head.

"How about, "Mr. Charles, I will fail French this year, disappoint my family, and ruin my G.P.A. because I was foolish?' No? Then on behalf of Mr. Juan Borgia, I will provide the class with an exercise. In addition to the end of chapter review, I want you all to answer the questions on page 788. Due Monday."

Somebody turned to page 788 and saw there were fifty questions. A groan rippled through the class. A few people shot spitballs at Juan.

"You may sit down," Mr. Charles told him.

Juan sat, feeling like he'd just gotten hit with a cannonball.

Author's notes- The minute after I posted the last chapter I thought up the whole 'main courses…side dishes…desert' quote and I went, "Dammit, that's what I should have written."


	9. Chapter 9

Twenty minutes into third period, Machiavelli was ready to kill each and every last one of the hoodlums. "We've been through the balcony scene twice now. Does anybody have an opinion on it? The romance, the characters, the language, anything."

Silence. Several students fiddled with their pens.

"Anything?"

Somebody sneezed.

"Who sneezed? You! What do you think of the scene?"

"Um, it reminds me of when Edward visited Bella in her bedroom."

The only thing that saved Machiavelli's students from hearing a tirade of curses was a knock at the door.

"And here to save my sanity is Vice Principal Borgia. I'll be right outside. Please take this time to think up an opinion that is not related to pop culture."

He stepped out into the hall and pulled the door closed behind them. "Your arrival is timely, Vice Principal."

Cesare smiled. "I understand you had a visitor to your fifth period class the other day. A Principal?"

"And how did you know that?"

"My little sister mentioned it to me."

"Oh, right."

"So Principal Della Rovere did stop by? What did he want?"

"He wanted nothing."

"Nothing?"

Seeing the young Vice Principal so confused made Machiavelli's smile grow a little wider. "More precisely, he asked that I do and say nothing."

He could practically see the cogs turning in Cesare's head. "He asked that you do and say nothing in the event of a great something?"

"You're far too clever to be a Vice Principal."

"The job has made me so. So what did you promise the Principal?"

"And why should I tell the Vice Principal what I told the Principal?"

Again, the gears turned. "I understand you and Mr. Savonarola do not get along?"

"He believes his is the only true teaching style. He would see the whole school ranting and raving like lunatics."

"What if I promised you that in exchange for your support of my father during this difficult time, Mr. Savonarola would find himself in the unemployment line?"

Machiavelli held back his joy. "What about the teacher's union? He's got tenure."

"Leave the union to me. What did you promise him?"

"The same he offered me; nothing." He grabbed Cesare's arm and leaned closer to whisper into the man's ear. "If these past few days have made you clever, the coming weeks will thrust genius upon you."

Cesare nodded and they parted ways.

The second half of fourth period was interesting. Lucrezia felt like a mob boss and the thought made her giggle. It felt good to have something to think about other than her home life. "So when do we want to do this?" she asked her cohorts in crime. She didn't worry about being overheard; the lunchroom was in its normal state of pandemonium.

"We should do it as soon as possible," Francesca said. "What good comes from delay?"

"What about tonight?" Paulo said. "During the football game?"

"I'm meeting Djem for the game tonight," Lucrezia said.

"See if you can't slip away from him for a few minutes." Paulo really hoped he didn't sound too jealous.

"I can do that."

Francesca thought of something. "The school will be locked then."

Lucrezia smirked. "Leave that to me."

"I still haven't found them," Dr. Burchard wailed. The office was a mess; papers were strewn everywhere and folders containing the paperwork necessary for running a school were knocked over. None of this mattered; the only thing of importance was the mystery of his missing glasses.

Cesare rubbed his temples. "Dr. Burchard, I'm sure they're somewhere around. Maybe you left them at home."

"I have two sets; one for home and one for here. I keep the one here in my desk in a case designed for glasses. I put them in there every night and lock the desk drawer. Unless my glasses sprouted legs, kicked the drawer open and walked away, somebody stole them!"

"Any suspects?"

"The whole student body."

Before Cesare could reside, Mrs. Bonadeo walked into the office. "You wanted to see me, Mr. Borgia?"

"Yes. Dr. Burchard, please excuse me. We'll continue the search for your glasses later." He ushered Mrs. Bonadeo into his office to talk about contacting the Department of Social Services on behalf of a student.

Fifth was Micheletto's free period and he usually spent it grading papers or something equally boring. Today was his first day on the anti-depressant and the side effects were kicking in something hellish and concentration was not an option.

Ursula Bonadeo was just exiting the office when he arrived. She smiled at him briefly, before hurrying on her way, leaving him alone with the Vice Principal.

One look at Cesare's face said it all. "You're having a bad day."

"Yeah. It started when my little sister told me she's going on a date and you decided to let Della Rovere be your new Dom. It didn't get any better after that."

The accusation stung although he didn't show it. "Possessive."

"So tell me it's not true. Tell me you're not leaving me for someone who can strike a whip harder. Tell me your mine."

He never would have figured Cesare for the insecure type. "I don't know anyone who can wield a whip better. You're stuck with me."

"Seems I am. But tell me, why did you let him do that?"

"I wanted him distracted."

"Distracted?"

"You wanted Maria silenced right? Trust me. After the game tonight, everything will be fine."

After a second, Cesare nodded.

A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and they broke apart. While he was pulling on his shirt, Cesare motioned for Micheletto to hide under his desk. The History teacher hopped over and scrambled underneath. After a few seconds, Cesare leaned over to toss him his jacket and left shoe.

"Come in!"

Lucrezia's voice filled the room. "C…I mean, Mr. Borgia?"

"Hey Lucrezia, is everything okay?"

"Not really. Um, your shirt's on backwards."

Micheletto thought that was pretty interesting, given that Cesare's shirt had buttons and a collar.

"So it is. But that's not why you came here."

"Not really. I'm just kind of bummed out. Mom and Dad, you know?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Gioffre's upset too."

"I bet."

"Anyways, um, I was kinda hoping for a hug. I know we're in school and all but,"

"Anytime, Sis."

Underneath the desk it was dusty. Evidently, the janitor wasn't too meticulous because the dust bunnies were mating like real ones. Micheletto sneezed.

"Bless you," both siblings said at the same time.

"I didn't sneeze," Lucrezia said.

"I mean, 'thanks, Sis'," Cesare said. "Sorry, natural instinct makes me say 'Bless you' after hearing a sneeze, even my own."

"Weirdo. Gioffre's my only normal sibling."

"So he is. Welp, huggy-time is over. The bell's about to ring."

The door shut a few minutes later and both men let out a huge sigh of relief.

"It was better than the time Della Rovere stopped by and you shoved me in the closet for an hour," Micheletto said after he crawled out from behind the desk and brushed the dust from his hair.

"I'd forgotten about that. Good times."

"I pretended it was an iron maiden. Now where were we?"

Cesare kissed him, biting his lip just hard enough to draw blood, then broke away. "Sorry, bell's about to…"

The bell rang.

Outside the administration office, Lucrezia met Paulo and Francesca.

"Did you get it?" Francesca bit her lip.

Lucrezia smirked and held up the key to the school she had stolen from Cesare's office.

Author's notes: shit's gonna hit the fan during that game tonight.

An iron maiden is a medieval torture device.


	10. Chapter 10

Nothing interesting happened during sixth period. For that, Giulia Farnese was grateful. Her whole day had been spent listening to whispers and avoiding stares. The other female teachers were avoiding her and many of the men's eyes lingered on her a few moments longer than they had before. When the final bell rang she let out a sigh of relief and packed up her things. Only Paulo's arrival stopped her from going home.

"Right. Detention," she sighed. "I forgot."

"We can not do this and just say we did," he said. "I'm okay with that."

"I'm sure you would be, but no. Do you have the slip?" He handed her the pink piece of paper indicating the date and time of the detention and the reason. "Your parents didn't sign this."

"Foster parents. They're out of town."

Something about that didn't seem right but she let it go. "Write me an essay, wait." She could have slapped herself for forgetting his disability. "Wipe down the chalkboard and start your homework. I'll be back in a minute."

The teacher's lounge was almost empty but she was lucky enough to catch Machiavelli on his way out. "Niccolo."

"Giulia. How can I help you?"

It was rare for the Math teachers and the English teachers to cross paths; there was even a joke about 'never the twain shall meet', but everyone knew about Machiavelli's stash. "It's been a rough week. Would it be too forward of me to beg for a cup of coffee?"

"Not at all. It's in the fridge." He led her to the small fridge in the corner where he took out a thermos. He wrestled a Styrofoam cup out of its plastic wrapping and poured her a drink.

The minute the rum bit her tongue she smiled. "Thank you. Thank you so much." True the alcohol was too cold, but she didn't care. Anything to get through the remainder of the day.

"It's funny," he said, "I break more rules now than when I was a teenager."

"You have better reasons now."

"Hmm. You staying for the game?"

She shook her head. "I don't have it in me."

"I understand complet….hey!" Machiavelli shouted when Corella grabbed the thermos out of his hands and poured it down the water fountain. "What is wrong with you?"

"That's a long list." He washed the remaining rum down the drain and rinsed out the thermos before giving it back. "You'll thank me later." He was gone before either of them could say anything.

Giulia groaned. "I have a headache."

* * *

><p>The good thing about Fridays was that students rarely wanted to hang around school at the end of the day. No club meetings were scheduled, nobody loitered in the parking lot, everything was quiet.<p>

The bad thing about this Friday was that many of them would be back. There was a game tonight and that always brought trouble. One week trouble was a fight, another week it was drug bust, another week it was a keg party.

Cesare swallowed two aspirin and prepared himself for a night of hysteria and melodrama. The cops were already patrolling the outdoor stadium and he could already hear the screams of excited teenagers hooting and hollering more from the joy of creating noise than from school spirit.

The clock on his wall told it was twenty minutes to seven. Time to get out there and pretend he cared about the outcome of the game. He made his way outside and greeted the police chief, a big, blond guy whose name he should have known but didn't.

"Officer, how's it going?" Too late he realized the man was on a cell phone and shut up. He waited until he was done with the call before apologizing.

"You have bigger worries, Mr. Borgia. That was an anonymous tip."

Cesare arched an eyebrow. "A tip?"

"We'll need to bring in the drug sniffing dogs."

* * *

><p>Maria was standing by her locker waiting for 'Jack'. She had been waiting for two hours and common sense told her she had been stood up, but vanity and desperation made her stick around. Her anger and hope disappeared when the dogs arrived. They made a beeline for her locker and began barking. She took a step back and bumped into the big, blond chief of police.<p>

"Going somewhere, Miss?"

"I was just waiting for my date," she said. "His name is Jack."

"Uh-huh. Can you open your locker for us?"

"No! That's an invasion of privacy!"

"The lockers belong to the school, not to students. You can open it for us or we can open it with a crowbar."

Unnerved by the insane barking of the dogs and the judging stares of the police, she refused. They pried open the door of the locker and a sandwich bag filled with white powder was found.

"That's not mine!" Maria protested. "It's not."

"Right. We're gonna need you to come with us."

She was too shocked to say anything until she felt the cold metal of the handcuffs wrap around her wrists. Then she started screaming.

* * *

><p>Principal Della Rovere arrived just in time to see the drug sniffing dogs attack his door. He watched Vice Principal Borgia open the door for the cops and the blue clad team of the city's finest entered. They emerged and one of them held a large plastic bag with white powder in it.<p>

He turned and fled the school. He reached his car and raced out of the parking lot just as the local news station truck arrived.

* * *

><p>"What's the news station doing here?" Lucrezia asked. "Our games are never good enough for them to cover."<p>

"Maybe it was a slow news day," Djem said. They watched as the news crew ignored the action that was the game and instead filed inside the school. "Weird. Anyways, where were we?" He leaned in for a kiss.

At the last second, Lucrezia spotted Francesca. The other girl was beckoning to her and beside her was Paulo. "Um, I've gotta go."

"Go?"

"To the restroom," she said quickly. "I'll be back in a few moments." She hoped it wouldn't take Paulo long to sabotage Mr. Sforza's chair.

Djem nodded and she left the bleachers.

"Have you got the key?" Francesca asked when they met up.

"In my jeans. Paulo?" He held up the screwdriver. "Good. Let's do this."

* * *

><p>Author's notes: I don't really have much to say about this chapter. I don't really have much to say about anything really.<p>

Sean Harris is awesome.

There. That's all.


	11. Chapter 11

"This is Karen Spinner, reporting to you live from Rome High School where a major drug bust has just occurred. With me is Vice Principal Cesare Borgia. Mr. Borgia, can you comment on the drugs found in Principal Della Rovere's office?"

"Naturally, the school is in shock over this scandal. Principal Della Rovere always seems like such an upstanding individual that to find out he's engaged in such seedy activities is quite alarming. Of course we don't want to convict the man, we'll leave that to the jury and the school board. In the meantime I want to reassure the parents and students of Rome High that we adhere to a zero-tolerance policy concerning drugs, which is also why every student involved in this drug bust will be expelled."

"Principal Della Rovere was last seen fleeing the school parking lot. Police inform me they arrived at his house to discover he was gone. They are withholding the names of the students engaged involved in the bust due to their age. Anyone with information regarding Principal Della Rovere's whereabouts is asked to call 1800-Lock-U-Up. Jim, back to you."

"Thanks, Karen. Gosh, what a horrible scandal. Now we turn to Sharon Blither at the local zoo with a story on gay penguins. Sharon?"

* * *

><p>Machiavelli switched off the television and laughed himself sick.<p>

* * *

><p>"There are too many cops in here," Paulo grumbled. They had unlocked the door and snuck up to the second floor of the school, where the Geology room was located. They had almost been caught twice in five minutes, each time by police. "Seriously, what is going on?"<p>

"I don't know, but can we hurry up?" Lucrezia said. "I'm on a date, remember?"

Paulo subconsciously slowed down. Francesca pushed him and gave him a Look.

The door to the Geology room was locked and the key didn't work. "Of course, they would use different keys for different doors," Lucrezia said. "Either of you got any ideas?"

"Hang on." Paulo fished a paperclip out of his pocket and unbent it. "One of my foster brothers taught me to pick a lock." He jabbed it into the lock and wiggled it around. The three of them held their breaths until they heard the click of the lock and the door swung open.

"Give me five minutes."

"Got it." Lucrezia nodded and looked at Francesca. Without saying a word the girls turned in opposite directions to keep a look out.

Lucrezia held her breath and bit her lip. The air was wrought with tension. She could hear the movements of the police and her brother's voice. Her heart stopped beating and for a second she thought of calling the whole thing off. They were gonna get caught. They were gonna get expelled and her parents would ship her off to military boarding school and her life would over because would Djem want a girl in a military cadet uniform? She didn't think so. Her life would so over if they got caught. She opened her mouth to suggest they leave when Paulo exited the room.

"Done."

"So soon?"

He opened his palm to show her the metal screws from Mr. Sforza's chair. "Shop was the only class I ever got an A in."

"So that's it?"

"That's it."

"Rather anticlimactic. It almost seems like we should be caught or something."

"Um, guys?" Francesca piped up. "Can we leave now? Before we actually are caught?"

"Wiser words were never spoken. I need to get back to my date." Without further ado, they snuck out of the school as easily as they had snuck in.

* * *

><p>Cesare leaned against the file cabinet. "So my father's main accuser and his star witness to the supposed indiscretions are both wanted on drug charges. Poor Maria, her life is ruined now."<p>

Micheletto fiddled with the locked drawer of Dr. Burchard's desk. "What a shame. And she had such a bright future too."

"Uh-huh. Said she didn't know anything about the drugs and some guy named Jack set her up. But the only description she gave was he wore a hoodie and glasses."

The drawer popped open and Micheletto placed Dr. Burchard's glasses in their usual spot. "Really?"

"You know a guy named Jack who wears a hoodie and glasses by any chance?"

The drawer was shut. "The only Jack I know doesn't wear glasses."

"You put the drugs in Della Rovere's office, didn't you?"

"I plead the fifth."

Cesare nodded. "I am gonna fuck you seven ways to Sunday."

"On Della Rovere's desk? It was great the last time."

"Last time we had sex on his desk, it wasn't a crime scene. So, no. Not on Della Rovere's desk."

_Well, damn_. "Kitchen table?"

"There we go."

* * *

><p>Author's notes: I had such a blast with this chapter. I think Machiavelli's lost it. Seriously, imagine being as smart as he was and then imagine being a high school English teacher where your students put Bella and Edward on equal footing with Romeo and Juliet. You'd snap too.<p>

Also, I realize that right now the only slash pairing is Cesare/Micheletto. That will change.


	12. Chapter 12

Saturday. Glorious, glorious Saturday. Cesare woke up around six out of habit. When he remembered it was the weekend he smiled and closed his eyes again.

Immediately, the high pitched beep beep beep of the alarm reminded him that he had three students serving Saturday detention and he had to be at the school in an hour.

"Sonuva...!"

* * *

><p>"Do you know anything about poison?" Juan asked. "I'm thinking of poisoning my friend."<p>

The other boy, a nervous freshman whose name Juan didn't know, looked uncertain. "Um, I know about Cantarella. You're not supposed to mix it with sugar."

"Excuse me." Alfonso snapped his fingers. "Are you here to talk to him, or make out with me?"

"He can make out with you in a second. I want to know more about this Cantarella stuff."

"That's all I know," the kid said apologetically. "Mr. Corella only mentioned it in passing. Maybe you could put it in your friend's tea?"

Djem, who had been silent until now, put down his bottle of green tea and rolled his eyes. "I love how you guys are plotting this out like I'm not sitting right beside you and hearing every word you say."

"I'm not plotting anything," Alfonso snapped and pulled his boy toy across the desk. He pressed his lips against the kid's and a heavy make-out session ensued, hampered by the metal bars on the school chairs.

"I'm plotting something, but you'll never see it coming. I've got a strategy," Juan said confidently.

Cesare walked in just in time to catch the tail end of that sentence. "Strategy for what?"

"A strategy for convincing you to forgive us and not enforce three more weeks of Saturday detention."

"I look forward to hearing it." Cesare said dryly. He surveyed the class and arched an eyebrow. "Why are there four people here?"

"I brought along someone to keep me busy," Alfonso said. "I forget his name."

"You just had your tongue down my throat and you can't remember my name?"

"Relax. I remember you want to be a cook and you know something about Cantarella."

"Chef! I wanna be a chef!"

"Same difference."

Cesare put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. "Kid-I-don't-know, why you supposed to be here?"

"Um, to make out with Alfonso?"

"That's not a reason. Leave before I get to know you." The kid ran out of the room and Cesare turned his death-glare on Alfonso. "You. I want a thousand word essay on why bullying freshman into coming to detention with you is wrong."

Alfonso laughed but quickly sobered up. "Wait, you're serious?"

"As serious as the plague. Juan, I want a thousand word essay on why lechery, debauchery and general laziness are not going to help you in your academic career."

"Lechery, debauchery and general laziness are true marks of popular kids. You wouldn't understand."

"Djem, my office."

Djem hesitated. "You sure I can't just write an essay?"

"He wants you in his office, Traitor."

"Djem, office. Now. Juan, two thousand words."

* * *

><p>"This is intimidation," Djem said. They were in the Vice Principal's office, along with Mrs. Bonadeo, the school nurse and a social worker. "My brother does not abuse me and I am sorry if I've done anything to make you think he does." He said it so smoothly Cesare was startled.<p>

"Nobody is ganging up on you," Ursula said soothingly. "We just asked you how you got that black eye."

"And the bruised ribs last month," the nurse said.

"As I told you last month those were from playing basketball."

It was a perfectly logical response and Cesare didn't believe it for a second. He flipped through the manila folder that was Djem's file. "Your grades have dropped since you started living with your brother."

"Half-brother." The smooth responses were gone and the teenager's voice became harsh. "And excuse me for not worrying about my GPA after I buried my parents."

"If someone is hurting you then protecting them won't make it stop," said the social worker. "The police were called to your house on three separate occasions this year alone. We can put you with a family…"

"I don't want to be put with a family. I don't need to be put anywhere except back with my friends." He glared at all of them. "Are we done here?"

Cesare nodded. "Go back to the classroom. I'll be there in a minute." He waited until the door shut before turning to the three women. "Thoughts?"

"It'd be easier to get him in state custody if he'd admit to the abuse. As it is," the social worker shrugged. "I got nuthin'. Police reports aren't enough." She held out three cards. "If anything changes or there's irrefutable proof of abuse, give me a call."

The nurse showed her out and Cesare was alone with Ursula.

"It's odd," she said. "I've never seen you so concerned. Usually you're always acting aloof and cranky."

"On weekdays I am aloof and cranky. On the weekends I am thus." He left her and returned to the classroom. Juan and Alfonso were writing their essays. Djem watched him enter. The earlier anger was gone and replaced by his usual bright smile.

"What should the subject of my essay, Mr. Borgia?"

"How you want your life to turn out. Thousand words." Cesare reached into his briefcase, took out his book and prepared himself for a long day.

* * *

><p>Author's notes- I kinda hate this chapter. Djem's a little OOC and Cesare is too. But at least Alfonso got some lovin'. In case you didn't get it, his boy toy is supposed to be the guy who mixed Cantarella and sugar and got his neck snapped. That guy was never named was he?<p> 


	13. Chapter 13

The problem with assigning essays was that you had to read them. Cesare looked at the chicken-scratch on the desk, then back at the boys in the room. "You guys could have at least tried to write legibly. Juan, why did you write in red ink?"

"Black ink is for boring people, like you. Me, I require something more flamboyant."

"Right. Well, it's ten o' clock so…"

"We can go home?"

"Saturday detention lasts as long as a regular school day."

"That's not fair," Djem said. "We only cut one class period. Therefore, we should only have to stay for a time equal to one class period."

"Nope. The purpose of detention is to prevent you from wanting to skip again. Knowing you'll waste a Saturday if caught will make you think twice."

"This is disproportionate retribution," Juan said.

"As impressed as I am by your vocabulary, no it's not. I may be boring but I decide what is disproportionate and what isn't."

"Alfonso, back me up here."

"Hmm?" Alfonso was staring at his lap and when he looked up, Cesare caught a glimpse of a cell phone. "Sorry, I just got some interesting news."

"So interesting you broke school policy and used your cell phone?" Cesare held out his hand and beckoned for the device.

Alfonso slid out of his desk and almost sauntered to the front of the room. "Very interesting. I know who our new Principal will be."

That was interesting. "Who?" He took the phone.

"You."

* * *

><p>Superintendent Rodrigo Borgia had an office space. It was the nicest office space in a crappy, moldy building that was held together with funding from the state Department of Education and duct tape. His arm chair belonged to his predecessor and the pleather was flaking off, but he didn't care. He was master of his domain. Lord of all he surveyed. Human embodiment of the one true God.<p>

Maybe not that last one.

There was a thundering sound of hoofbeats and a banging on the door. "Dad? Dad!"

He had been expecting this. "Come in, Cesare."

The door flew open and his eldest son stormed in. "There's a press release out. You're hiring thirteen new principals?"

"To replace those I feel are lacking in loyalty to the school district. You'll be taking over Della Rovere's position, naturally."

"I don't want the job."

"You know my wishes. I will have one child be a doctor, one be a lawyer, one be a teacher, and one be a priest. Granted, I thought Lucrezia would be the teacher but since you dropped out of the Seminary…"

"I said, I don't want to be a Principal! I got three phone calls on my way over here from various officials wanting to know what's going on. They're accusing you…"

"Oh, what am I now accused of?"

"…Of selling the offices of Principal. Of promoting me just because I'm your son. You're going to ruin your career."

"Your school has the highest concentration of tenured, respected educators in the district. I want their loyalty and I need you to ensure it. I will hear no more of the subject."

"Dad…"

"No more!" Rodrigo's shout was louder this time. "Besides, I spoke with Dr. Burchard before I did this. He assured me that everything is legal. He even found a precedent for my actions." He reached out and caressed his son's face. "I was about your age when I became a Principal. It's a good job."

"Much longer hours, a lot more paperwork, and a teeny-tiny increase in pay. How is that a good job?"

"You'll be in a position to help me further my agenda. Standardized tests are coming, and with them come federal funds. We need to start thinking what will be on those standardized tests. What we will teach the next generation."

"God save us from standardized tests," Cesare said flatly. He left shortly after that.

His phone rang as he exited the building. "Hey."

"Hey." It was Micheletto. "Can you bail me out of jail or are you still supervising the Breakfast Club?"

* * *

><p>Author's notes- I used to work in an office similar to Rodrigo's. Every time a plane flew overhead it would shake and we'd have to stop stuff from falling on the floor. The mold made me sick. My new career goal is to work at a place without mold.<p> 


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note- This chapter contains the results of child abuse. Future chapters may contain the same. I forgot to warn for that in an earlier chapter. I'm trying to be more conscientious and remember warnings in the future.

Also, BDSM and slash.

* * *

><p>"You tried to poke the YMCA lifeguard's eyes out?" Cesare said.<p>

"He was wearing goggles, he's fine. And I thought I saw Della Rovere."

"I'm not sure how seeing Della Rovere and trying to jab some guy's eyes out are connected, and I don't think I want to know."

"You're mad aren't you?" The hesitated question, coupled with Micheletto's frown, was almost heart-breaking. The History teacher might have been borderline psychopathic at times, but that just made his insecurities all the more pitiful.

"Yes, yes I am. Brilliant deduction." Cesare thumped his head against the bars of the cell a few times. "You're supposed to be the person who doesn't give me grief. You're supposed to be the one who doesn't make my life hell."

"If you're trying to make me feel guilty…"

"Yeah?"

"You're succeeding."

Cesare nodded. "I'm not going to hit you."

"What?" The redhead looked at him like he'd just grown another head. "You're doing the 'Dominant' thing wrong then."

"Nah. Why would I hit you when I'm mad at you? You like being hit."

"I don't like where this is going."

"Mr. Savonarola will be leaving us soon. The duties of the school play production will pass to Mr. Machiavelli. He's going to need help."

"No. No, no, no, no…"

"You don't have a choice." Smirking, Cesare stepped back and hollered for the Chief of Police to come and unlock the cell door.

* * *

><p>Rodrigo opened the door to Vice-Superintendent Ascanio Sforza's office and his jaw dropped. "The hell?"<p>

"Mr. Superintendent," Ascanio said. He hastily re-tied his tie while his lady friend slipped on her blouse. "This is, um, my cousin."

"Your cousin," Rodrigo repeated.

"Second cousin. Twice removed."

"Thank God for that. This is not Mississippi."

"No, it is not. So, how can I help you?"

Rodrigo paused. The young lady was still getting dressed and she was very distracting. "You seem to be awash with cousins. My purpose for this visit was to discuss Giovanni Sforza."

"Ah, him."

"My daughter is in his class. I fear for her education."

"I see. You shouldn't. He inherited none of the Sforza vigor or temperament. He should be as putty in her hands."

That was not at all reassuring. Rodrigo gave him a weird look. "Do you ever have nightmares, Vice-Superintendent?"

"My very life is a nightmare of bureaucracy, which I struggle to keep from reaching your eyes."

"Right. Well, that mention of 'vigor' and 'putty in her hands' is going to give me nightmares for a week."

"That was kind of creepy," the cousin agreed.

"Sorry."

"You should be. Look, tell your cousin Giovanni that we have placed our trust in him and there would be grave consequences for that trust being betrayed."

"I'll send him an e-mail tonight."

* * *

><p>After an early release from detention, the three members of the Breakfast Club found themselves with nothing to do.<p>

"Okay, we've been out of detention for hours. Something interesting should have happened by now." Juan looked at his friends as if he expected them to magically produce entertainment.

Alfonso looked up from his boy-toy, the wannabe cook/chef/whatever, whose name nobody had bothered to learn. "You want me to call my sister?"

"Yeah, that'd be great."

"Wait a minute," Djem said. "Whose throat do I get to stick my tongue down?"

Juan gave him a vicious look. "I am not calling my sister."

"Boys, boys. Relax. You can have a three-way with my sister. There is plenty of Sancia to go around. The only question is: is your relationship ready for a heavy-duty make-out session?"

They looked at each other. Juan shrugged. "Our relationship could be interpreted that way."

"Well, you do seem rather reluctant to kill me."

"And we both obviously enjoy our bantering and brotherly horseplay. Yeah, I'm pretty sure that's enough for me to sleep with you. Especially if there's a girl there."

"If there's a girl then technically we're still straight. I think." Djem tried to think about that for a moment, then shrugged and moved on. "Where do we want to do this?"

They both looked at Alfonso who shook his head. "Dad's an old doddered, but even he could hear Sancia screaming."

"Gioffre's at home, so my place is out."

Djem nodded. "So I guess we only have one option."

* * *

><p>A few hours later it was dark and Micheletto remembered something. "Mmmf!Hrmmph!"<p>

Cesare removed the gag. "What was that?"

"I forgot to tell you, your mother called earlier. She wanted to know if you're going to Mass tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Are you?"

Cesare gave him a Look. "After what we did last night and what we're doing now, you seriously think I can walk into a Catholic church and not spontaneously burst into flames?"

"Um…"

"Exactly. I have something to tell you as well." He fiddled with the loose end of the rope that bound Micheletto's wrists to the bedpost. "I'm the new Principal of Rome High School."

The doorbell rang at the same time Micheletto said, "Huh?"

"Doorbell." Cesare replaced the gag. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere." He shut the bedroom door and ran down the stairs.

When he opened the front door he took an involuntary step back. Djem was standing on the porch, but his face was so bruised and bloody it was hard to recognize.

"What the hell happened to you?"

"My older brother happened. Please, Mr. Borgia, may I come in?" The kid was clearly holding back tears.

Cesare ushered him inside and took him to the kitchen. "Wait here."

He raced back upstairs. "Where's the first aid kit?"

Micheletto blinked. "Linen closet. Inside the duffel bag."

The linen closet had no linen. It had a collection of dusty Army uniforms and gear. Cesare tore open the olive green duffel bag to find the white metal box with the red cross on it.

"Why do you need the first aid kit?" Micheletto stood at the door of the bedroom, rubbing his wrists. Cesare briefly wondered how he had gotten loose, but saved the question for later.

"There's a student downstairs. Djem."

"The kid with the brother?"

"Yeah. In my wallet should be a social worker's card. Call her." Cesare grabbed the little box and returned to the kitchen.

"Hey."

"I should not have come here," Djem said immediately and stood up. "I'm sorry, this was a mistake."

"Whoa, whoa." Cesare pointed to the chair. "Sit." He stared at the kid until he sat down. "Good. Now, I'm going to clean you up a little and you're going to tell me exactly what happened."

* * *

><p>Author's notes- I feel like I should say something witty.<p>

…

…

I got nuthin'.


	15. Chapter 15

"I didn't know my brother was home until he came into my bedroom and saw me with J…with my partner," Djem said. "Islam and homosexuality are not very compatible, as he reminded me." He gestured to the bruises on his face. "When he was done he left me lying on the floor. I snuck out the window."

"The window?" the social worker asked. She had a pen and pad of paper in front of her and was writing everything down.

"It's a one story house."

"Jesus," Cesare said.

The social worker nodded in agreement. "Amen. I'm gonna get with my supervisor and talk about pressing charges…"

"I don't want to press charges," Djem said.

"You don't want to press charges, and you don't want to go to the hospital." She sighed in frustration. "What do you want to do?"

He shrugged. "I want to stay away from my brother."

"I can understand that. Mr. Borgia, can I see you and your partner for a second?"

The three adults met in the living room, just out of earshot of the kitchen. The social worker, obviously frustrated, spoke first. "So, I'm going to talk to my supervisor about finding him a place to stay."

"Where'll he end up?"

"Tonight? Hell if I know. I've got some people who might have space to take him in on short notice but…" she trailed off.

Cesare put his head in his hands. "Crap."

"Yeah. A lot of foster families stopped taking in kids with the Great Recession. We've got a shortage now."

Cesare reached out and lightly punched Micheletto's arm. "Hey. I'm suffering from an onslaught of Catholic guilt."

"A very good reason to convert to Protestantism."

"I'll think about it. In the meantime can you think of any reason not to become a foster parent?"

"I can think of two or three dozen reasons. I don't think it's supposed to be something you do on a whim."

The social worker jumped in. "You wouldn't be doing it because of a whim, you'd be doing it because I'm guilt-tripping you. And unless those reason include a recent arrest…"

"I tried to jab somebody's eyes out at the YMCA today. He had to bail me out of jail."

She paused. "Eh, I'm hard up enough for foster families to ignore that. I can hand wave it away."

"Um, we're two men in a relationship?"

"After the last election this state qualifies as blue. I, and my supervisor, don't care."

"Can you excuse us for just a second?" Cesare asked calmly. He waited until the social worker went into the kitchen and they were alone. "Does the idea bug you that much?"

"It doesn't bug me, exactly. It's just, I'm fucked up, you're fucked up, and that's why this relationship works. Now you want to add a third element and I'm not sure how well that third element is going to handle being surrounded by so much crazy and I'm not sure how the crazy is going to handle the third element."

"I think it's safe to say that Djem's brings a little crazy to the kitchen table."

"Can we handle that particular kind crazy?"

"We've handled our own crazy well enough. You remember when you asked me if I trusted you?"

"Yeah."

"Do you trust me?"

"I let you beat me up every night so, yes. I do."

"Do you trust me to handle the two of us plus a teenager?"

This time there was a slight hesitation. "Yes. I didn't have a prayer of winning this, did I?"

"When do I ever let you win an argument? I'm Catholic, I can just guilt trip you into giving in." Cesare kissed him. "Go make up the guest bedroom. I'm gonna go talk to the social worker. I'm sure there's some paperwork we have to sign. Oh, hey?"

"Yeah?"

"When I left to answer the door, you were tied to the bedpost. How…?"

"When I said 'make the knots tighter', I meant it. Your knots are crap."

Cesare nodded and made a mental note to invest in a pair of handcuffs. Then he went into the kitchen to talk to Djem and the social worker.

Author's notes: I just needed a universe where Djem doesn't die horribly. His episode made me all sadface.

I belong to a writer's group and a lot of the other members are Jewish. We have an ongoing joke about who has the most irrational guilt.


	16. Chapter 16

Sunday was quiet. Everybody walked on tip toe and nothing much was said. It wasn't until Monday that things got interesting.

Djem closed his locker to see Juan leaning against the wall. "I tried calling you the other night," the younger Borgia said. "You didn't answer your cell."

"Don't tell me you were actually worried about me?"

"I was worried about whether or not we'd be able to pick up where we left off. Your brother was kind of…angry when we left." He motioned at Djem's still bruised face.

Djem sighed. "He was angry. I left the house when he was through being angry and went to visit your brother."

"Cesare?"

"The one and only."

Juan frowned in confusion. "What did you do at his place?"

"I became a foster child and ward of the state."

* * *

><p>Machiavelli smirked when he entered the teachers' break room and saw the person he was looking for. "Mr. Corella. You know, I was thinking and I couldn't remember if drug sniffing dogs also smell alcohol."<p>

Micheletto looked up from the stack of essays. "I couldn't either. Thank God nobody in this break room had alcohol."

"Amen. Nice job getting rid of Principal Della Rovere."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Of course not. That news report on the drug bust kicked off a fantastic weekend. How was yours?"

"Um." Small talk was not Micheletto's strong point. "I was banned from the YMCA for trying to poke someone's eyes out, Cesare had to bail me out of jail and he wasn't happy out it, and he's the school's new Principal by the way, and I'm going to be helping you direct the next school play, then one of the students showed up on our doorstep, interrupting…never mind. But he was all bruised and bloody and the social worker was desperate and guilt tripped Cesare and now I'm a foster parent."

Machiavelli blinked. "The hell?"

"That was my reaction too."

* * *

><p>"My glasses!" Dr. Burchard held up his much-missed bifocals, a look of true rapture on his face. "They have returned to me!"<p>

Cesare smiled. "Told you they would turn up."

"I must have them dusted for fingerprints and…"

"Dr. Burchard?"

"Yes?"

"Did Superintendent Borgia ask you for an opinion on standardized tests, a precedent on my promotion, and a precedent for firing thirteen principals?"

Dr. Burchard's smile disappeared. "Oh dear."

"Well, I'm the new Principal and first in your chain of command. Ergo…"

"Chain of command? This is a school, not the military."

Cesare's voice became very low and chilly. "I am the new Principal. You answer to me. The next time my father asks you for an opinion, let me know."

More than a little intimidated, Dr. Burchard nodded. "As you wish, Principal Borgia."

Before Cesare could say anything else, Ursula burst into the office. Her blond hair was frazzled and her eyes were wide with panic. "Mr. Borgia, come quick. There's been an accident."

There was a crowd of students around the door of the Geology room. Cesare had to push people aside to reach Mr. Sforza, who was lying on the floor, his broken, bloody leg stretched out in front of him. Pieces of his chair were scattered around him.

"Get away, all of you," the angry science teacher yelled. "Dear God…"

"We're gonna need an ambulance." Cesare took out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

"I don't need an ambulance," Mr. Sforza snapped.

"Trust me, you're going to need an ambulance." When he finished speaking to the 9-1-1 operator and an ambulance was on its way, Cesare spotted Ms. Farnese. "Ms. Farnese, can you get these people to class?"

"Happily." She raised her voice above the chattering. "Anybody not on their way to class in the next thirty seconds gets a month of Saturday detention!" The crowd dissipated quickly. "Anything else, Mr. Borgia?"

"I am going to sue," Sforza screamed. "I'm going to sue, I'm going to make those responsible suffer."

"Do you know who's responsible?" Cesare asked.

Sforza pointed to the broken chair. "The manufacturers. Cheap, made-in-China crap."

"We'll get the police to investigate." He didn't have the heart to tell the man not to curse in front of the students.

"We don't need to investigate anything. I'm going to sue the manufacturers of that chair! I'm going to report them to the Better Business Bureau! I'm going to write to 'Consumer Reports!'"

While Mr. Sforza ranted about how he would crush the school furniture manufacturers into the ground, Lucrezia, Francesca, and Paulo low-fived under the desk.

"First the lock, now the chair," Sforza muttered under his breath.

"The lock?" Cesare frowned. "What about the lock?"

"I locked the door on Friday. When I came in this morning it was broken. Damned school's falling apart around our ears."

"We'll have the police look at the lock."

"Are the police coming?"

"I can hear the ambulance sirens now. Anytime there's an ambulance called to the school, the police follow it. Standard Operating Procedure."

Lucrezia, Francesca, and Paulo stopped smiling.

* * *

><p>Author's notes: Dun dun dun!<p>

I can haz reviews?


	17. Chapter 17

"Principal Borgia, we've got to stop meeting like this," the Chief of Police quipped. The ambulance had already gone, taking Sforza with it. The students had been moved to another room, providing the police plenty of space to work.

"You're a laugh a minute." Cesare gestured to the chair and the lock. "First I thought the chair was just crappy, but the lock's weird. Try it."

The Chief of Police tried the lock. "It's wonky."

"Yeah. Locks don't just go wonky. And chairs don't normally fall apart."

He tried the lock again. "It feels like the gears are grinding against something. Hey, New Guy." One of his recruits ran over. "Check the lock."

The flashlight and lock-picking equipment and after a few moments of fiddling around, New Guy extracted a small, thin piece of metal. "It's part of a paperclip, Sir."

"Bag it as evidence. And catalogue every piece of that chair." He turned to look at Cesare. "Somebody picked the lock."

"You think whoever did that messed with his chair too?"

"Probably. Do you know if Mr. Sforza had any enemies? Anybody who didn't like him?"

"Um," Cesare licked his lips, "yeah."

"Names?"

"The whole school. He's not a popular guy."

The Chief of Police sighed. "I hate cases that involve asshole victims."

"Do you think they'll figure out it was us?" Francesca whispered.

"They will if you keep whispering about it," Lucrezia hissed. "Seriously, there's nothing tying us to the scene, we all have alibis, and everything will be fine." She was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince them.

"Unless they look at the security videos," Paulo said.

They all paused. "Okay," Lucrezia said. "New plan. We need to think of someone of dubious morality to steal the security camera videos for us."

The bell rang.

"Meet at lunch with ideas?"

"Lunch it is," Francesca said. Paulo nodded.

* * *

><p>The whistle blew. Its shrill cry filled the gym and making everyone wince. "Everybody outside! Three laps around the tracks! Move! Move! Move!" Coach Bonadeo blew his whistle again. When he heard someone clear their throat, he growled under his breath. "What?"<p>

"I believe you mean, 'What can I do to help you, Principal Borgia?'" Cesare said coolly.

Coach Bonadeo turned around. "From a whore house to the Principal's office is quite a journey. I'm impressed."

"Excuse me?" As nasty and vicious as the faculty could be, Cesare was not used to them randomly insulting him. "I came down here to ask if you saw or heard anything last Friday."

"I heard nothing last Friday. But on Saturday my wife went to work. Can you tell me why a guidance counselor was needed at the school on a Saturday? I can only think of one reason." It was pretty obvious from his glare that the one reason was Cesare.

"We have an issue with a student…"

"Which student? What's the issue?"

Cesare sighed. "I can't tell you. Student information is private."

"How convenient."

"Care to explain the whore house comment?"

"I would have thought it was obvious. Both your parents stray from the marriage bed, you lead my wife from her marriage bed, and do I really need to mention your redheaded whore?"

Cesare gritted his teeth, tried very hard to remain calm and rational, and behave in a manner befitting a high school principal. "I will forget your words…"

"You will forget nothing," Coach Bonadeo hissed. "But I will have satisfaction."

"I look forward to it." Cesare turned on his heel and stormed out of the gym.

* * *

><p>Author's notes: It's been a while since I watched the episode where Bonadeo and Cesare declare their intention to kill each other. I'll have to wing it, sorry.<p>

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